


Tell Me My Truth, My Future with You

by AntagonizedPenguin



Series: How Best to Use a Sword [15]
Category: Original Work
Genre: All Combining to Make, Dubious Consent, God and Human, M/M, Misgendering, Power Imbalance, Prophecies, Prostitution, Sex, Those aren't the whole story but they're definitely there, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: For Jesse, working as a temple oracle meant spending his days giving fake futures to men who were more interested in sex than the future. Until it didn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another one-off. This got a little heavier than I planned, especially at the beginning. Everyone mind the tags and it should be fine. :)

“And prosperity…onto your house…for generations to…come.” Jesse gasped as he felt the man finally finish inside him. The man, a young military official, tensed, his face screwed up in quite a stupid-looking way, as he spilled his seed. He pulled out from Jesse, panting. 

“Thank you.” The man had the decency to say, and suddenly he looked even younger. Jesse wondered if that had been his first time. He certainly hadn’t had a lot of stamina. 

“I’m pleased to have delivered the gods’ plan for you.” Jesse said with a mysterious smile that he’d been practicing. He stood, carefully not shuddering as the man’s cum ran down his legs, and picked up the white gown he’d been wearing, stepped into it again.

Gracefully, always gracefully. The man had elected to fully undress, which Jesse thought was kind of endearing at the time, but now it was just kind of annoying as he cast around for all of his clothes. Jesse couldn’t leave until he did. The man was not graceful as he struggled into his shirt. 

“Was…it all true?” The man asked. Jesse hadn’t asked his name before. “Everything you said?” 

“Oracles from the gods are always true.” Jesse smiled again. “I’m afraid I never remember saying any of it afterwards, though. It was the Lady of White speaking, not me. I’m only her vessel.” He finished buttoning up the back of the dress as he spoke. It was white, white like the Lady, white like purity, white like all the things Jesse wasn’t. 

“Of course.” The man smiled a little, clearly thinking on the wealth and prestige Jesse had just promised him. The Lady of White hadn’t deigned to reveal his future to Jesse or anyone else, but that was okay. Jesse knew what people came to oracles to hear. This man was a soldier, and an officer—it wasn’t hard to assume that he’d have prestige and prosperity. Assuming he didn’t die horribly. Jesse tried not to listen too much when people talked about the war, but what he had heard made it sound like it was only getting worse with each passing year. Better to give the man vapid platitudes promising he’d be happy than tell the truth about his future anyway. 

And if he’d actually given a true oracle, most likely the man would never have come back. They generally weren’t very pleasant. That they didn’t remember their prophecies was a lie that all oracles—true oracles like Jesse as well as the rest of them who weren’t—told so they wouldn’t have to answer questions about it after. It was best to leave things vague when possible. But Jesse remembered every real prophecy he’d ever given, and they weren’t fun. 

The temple wouldn’t have been happy if he’d lost them another recurring tithe with promises of doom and destruction. Not that whoever he’d told it to would know—real oracles were in Har’chezt, the old language, which hardly anyone spoke anymore. 

“Thank you again.” The man said once he’d finally finished dressing. 

“Come back any time you feel the need for the guidance of the gods.” Or the need for a temple-sponsored prostitute, who’d fake an oracle while you fuck him, all for a few coins. Jesse knew what he really was. It didn’t bother him much—he had food and a place to live, and a little bit of money saved up and access to healers to cure him of any diseases he might catch. It was a decent enough life.

“I will.” The man promised with a stupid smile. He was just sort of all-around stupid-looking, actually. “It’s a shame that you’re stuck here in the temple all the time. You’re such a pretty girl…”

“I’ve been called to serve the gods.” Jesse said, smile in place. “As must we all. I’m happy with the life they’ve given me.” 

“Right.” The man looked a little ashamed. Jesse had a feeling he hadn’t been thinking much of the Lady of White or any of the other gods. “Of course, sorry. Um, thank you.” 

Jesse nodded graciously and let the man leave the little oracle room, before finally letting out the breath he’d been holding and shaking himself a little. Outside, the priestesses would be encouraging the man to make another donation as thanks for the revelations imparted upon him. Jesse departed the room from a hidden door behind the Lady’s statue, and followed the narrow hallways back to his room. Being an oracle meant he got a room rather than a cot, at least. 

Sometimes Jesse didn’t know if he was happy to have been born with this stupid power or not. 

Safely in his room with the door locked, Jesse took off the white dress—as gracelessly as he could—and hung it on a hook, scooping up a baggy tunic and some breeches, taking them over to the little washbasin in the corner to clean himself of the man’s seed before he dressed. When he’d put his clothes on, he uncorked a little bottle from his table and poured a drop of it into a cup of water filled from a jug. Then he drank it, telling himself that the Moon’s Tear had no taste even as he could taste it stinging his throat. 

He had to drink it notwithstanding what it tasted like. It would be unseemly for a priestess and oracle of the Lady of White to become pregnant. 

That done, Jesse lay on his little bed and looked up at the ceiling. His pipe was sitting there on the table, but he knew better than to take it up now, before he’d eaten anything. In a few minutes he’d go downstairs and get something, once he was a little more up to it.

Sex didn’t bother him, not really. He could probably go the rest of his life without it and not care, but Jesse didn’t mind that oracles traded sex for prophecies—or not really traded, since they were giving both away, maybe bundled was a better word. But he hated that he had to wear a dress, and be called pretty. He hated that he had to pretend to be a girl.

He’d tried once, telling someone that he was a boy. It had been a man, because it was always men in desperate need of oracles from the Lady of White; the temple of the Owl down the street, who’d turned Jesse away, got a slightly more varied patronage. Jesse had even given him a true oracle, and he’d been suitably awed. Until Jesse had told him, and then the man had just laughed at him, and Jesse had never bothered telling anyone after that. 

Fuck it, Jesse thought. He wasn’t hungry tonight. He reached out for his pipe, bringing it to his mouth and patting around for the matches. His hand knocked them off the table and Jesse sighed. “Fuck.” He muttered, sitting up and swinging off the bed, trying to find where they’d gone. 

On his haunches, Jesse found the matches under the table. When he put his hand on them, his door clicked open, and Jesse looked up behind him, expecting to see one of the priestesses, who didn’t generally knock. It was why he had a lock…which he was certain he’d locked. 

It wasn’t one of the priestesses. A man came into the room, tall and pointed, with sharp eyes that Jesse knew immediately saw way too much. “Sir.” Jesse said, worried. “You can’t be back here. Are you lost?” He affected the mysterious smile again, trying not to appear afraid. If he acted like prey, he’d become prey. “Let me guide you back to the sanctuary.” 

“No, I don’t need the sanctuary.” The man said, in a rolling voice that sounded like music. “I’d heard that Shynda had a true oracle in her temple here.” 

Jesse looked at the man, backing up until his legs hit the bed. Only ranking priestesses were allowed to know the Lady of White’s name. “If you need the services of an oracle, this temple has three. I can take you to the main…”

“If I need the services of a prostitute, this temple has three.” The man corrected Jesse, and Jesse’s breath caught as the man’s eyes met his. They were…almost yellow. And Jesse suddenly felt like the stranger knew everything about him. “But only one oracle. I require a telling.”

“Who…who are you?” Jesse asked, and he was shaking now. 

“My name is Derel.” The man smiled at him, not unkindly.

Jesse felt the room shrink a little. “The Owl.” He whispered, the knowledge coming to him. And, switching languages to Har’chezt, he said, “I’m sorry, my Lord. I didn’t recognize you.” It was a little awkward because Jesse rarely spoke it consciously and he could only practice with the high priestess here. “Please, allow me to be of service to you.”

Was that formal enough? He was using the most formal verbs he could, but Jesse wondered if it was enough. He’d never talked to a god before. He hadn’t known that gods used oracles. Jesse had had moments of not being sure if the gods even existed, though usually those ended when he remembered that half the world was at war with them. 

“Thank you.” The Owl bent and picked up Jesse’s pipe, setting it on the table. “I understand that this is unhealthy for humans.” He’d switched languages as well—the old language sounded proper coming from him. 

“Yes, my Lord.” Jesse said, glancing at the pipe. “I’m sorry if it offends you.”

“No need to be so nervous. This is no different from all the other times you’ve done this, I don’t doubt.” 

Jesse did, because all the other times he’d done this had been with stupid humans who wanted sex more than knowledge. With people who couldn’t kill him if he said something they didn’t like. The temple wasn’t going to protect him from the Owl. 

“I don’t intend to linger here all day. If you would undress, young man.” 

Jesse’s hands came to lift his tunic and he paused, fear and panic forgotten as he stared at the Owl. “What…what did you just call me?” 

The Owl frowned a little. “I did not intend to cause offence.”

“No, I’m not offended, my Lord.” Nobody had ever called him that before. Ever. Now Jesse was wary of taking off his clothes, fearing that he’d break whatever it was that had just happened. 

But the Owl was looking at him with patience that probably wasn’t real, and after a moment, Jesse made himself lift his shirt and put it aside, baring his breasts for the Owl to see. He didn’t comment or seem surprised, so Jesse took his pants off as well, leaving himself bare. The Owl approached him, and Jesse sat on the bed, and lay back as the Owl sat beside him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the man’s face, looking for some hint of…something, any emotion at all. 

“I admit I consider this somewhat…distasteful.” The Owl said, nodding down at Jesse. “Not you—you are beautiful. But unfortunately your powers are not trained to the point you can use them without mental distraction.” 

“I don’t mind, my Lord.” Jesse promised. Was the Owl suggesting that it was possible for oracles to tell the future without sex? He knew that some could—if they drugged themselves to the point they couldn’t talk in straight sentences. “Really, it’s okay.” 

“In that case, may I touch you?”

“Yes, my Lord.” 

The Owl nodded and reached out a hand, brushing the inside of Jesse’s thigh and gently touching between his legs, rubbing Jesse without penetrating him immediately. Warming him up. Jesse wanted to say that he probably didn’t need that, he’d seen two other men this afternoon already. But it was…nice. To have someone touch him like they cared about how he felt. 

And it felt nice too. Jesse’s breathing picked up as he tried to remain composed. The Owl slipped a finger inside, and Jesse back the whimper he nearly let out. The finger probed around, looking for something, and Jesse knew what he was looking for, and he wanted to tell the Owl that it was right there, just a little higher than he was probing, but that would be unseemly. It wasn’t for him to make demands of a god.

The Owl found it anyway, making Jesse cry out as he touched it. The Owl smiled down at him, added another finger, and proceeded to rub it up and down, quietly encouraging Jesse along. Jesse didn’t think he’d ever gotten this wet for anyone else, and was starting to wonder if gods came with magical sex powers or if the Owl just happened to be good at it. When Jesse was finally pushed over the edge after what seemed like forever, he shouted out shamelessly, clenching as he rode it out, fists balled in the sheets, eyes closed tight. 

When it passed, he lay there panting for a moment. “You…” He tried to collect his thoughts, make words happen. When he opened his eyes the room was swimming, a shimmer he knew always preceded truth. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“There is no reason to make this unpleasant for you.” The Owl said, shifting. Jesse looked down to see him opening up his pants. Around the Owl floated lines of power, whispers of the future, ghosts of the past. He didn’t shine like people said gods did. But he was more…present than Jesse had ever seen anyone, more defined, as if he were more real than humans. 

He was also already hard when he freed himself from his pants, and Jesse, still floating a bit, was mildly amused to see that he didn’t have the biggest cock he’d ever seen—it was a perfectly respectable size, but Jesse had been with men who were bigger. And he smiled, looking from it up to the Owl’s face. He looked, just for a moment, like an owl in truth. “Are you prepared?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Jesse said, nodding. He could feel it, the future, the oracle, the power, built up inside him, just waiting to come out. 

The Owl nodded and positioned himself between Jesse’s legs, using a hand to guide himself in. He kept his eyes on Jesse’s face and Jesse maintained eye contact even if it was improper. When the Owl pressed inside him, Jesse gasped, his power welling up inside him. He arced his back, closed his eyes, and seized onto it. 

“Beware the traitor.” Jesse said, the old language coming easily to him now. His eyes snapped open and he looked back up at the Owl, seeing a million things, battles and birds and thunder. “Beware the one who clothes himself as enemy, arising from the dark to sunder the truth at the hour of revival.” 

The Owl pulled out, thrust back, pushing all the way in. Jesse could feel it, even as something else kept hold of him. “That which was shattered can be repaired. The keys, the mementos five, they survive, nascent. Guarded, untouched, they are stone. But greed awakens them. Those who ever hunger for power can unlock the Web, not truly shattered but merely unwoven.”

The Owl wasn’t fucking him, Jesse realized distantly. He’d been fucked before, a lot. This, as the god moved in and out, was something else entirely. “But the traitor.” Jesse hissed. “The traitor, living in the skin of the dead, turns on his people. The war is lost and the traitor sees triumph. He will destroy everything, make true the revelation of lies.”

Jesse felt himself lifted, moved and repositioned so he was straddling the Owl’s lap, looking him in the eye as he prophesied. He started moving as well, rocking back and forth against the Owl’s hips as words flowed into him. “He will kneel before them, he will serve them, he will love them. They will harm him, they will chain him, they will destroy him, and still he will choose them, he will elevate them, he will make of them what they are not meant to be.” 

The Owl was reaching so far inside him, his face a mask of concentration and something else. In this position brushing against that spot and sending waves of pleasure through Jesse. He could feel another orgasm coming on but he tried to hold it back. “Betrayal will know him and he it. They will turn away from him, make silent his pleas, smear his purity and peddle his power. And still will he save them, still will he damn his people. Beware the traitor, lest he be your destruction.”

With those last words Jesse couldn’t hold it back anymore and he came with a loud shout, clutching the Owl’s arms to hold himself in place, burying his face in the Owl’s shoulder. The Owl held him tight, wrapped arms around him, and he came inside Jesse, the heat overpowering him, joining Jesse’s own, making him lose his grip on the world.

When he came to, they were still joined. He looked up at the Owl with eyes rimmed in red, found the god looking down at him, concern on his face. “Are you alright?” 

Jesse nodded, winced as he pulled back. He was sensitive, sore. The loss of the Owl inside him drew forth a stupid-sounding noise. “I hope to have satisfied you, my Lord.” He managed, though he then fell sideways and had to be caught, held there in place. 

“I am.” The Owl assured him. “I admit I did not…anticipate your oracle.”

“I’m sorry.” Jesse breathed, feeling shaky. “To have not been more helpful.”

“No.” The Owl shook his head. “I know as well as any that prophecy is uncontrollable, unpredictable. Had I known what you would say, I would not have needed you to say it, now would I have?” 

“I guess not.” Jesse smiled, then giggled, even though it wasn’t that funny.

“I should like to know more about this traitor you spoke of.” 

“I don’t know anything else about him.” Jesse shook his head, thinking. There was always more, a rush of images and ideas and concepts and thoughts, that came with the spoken prophecy. He tried to pull some of that out, but nothing was clear. 

“I understand.” The Owl was fitting himself back into his pants with one hand, and he stood. “I meant that I would like you to deliver more prophecies for me.” 

“What, right now?” Jesse laughed again. “My Lord, I am but a mere human. I do need a short break.” Better sex than usual had made him a little brazen. 

“Not right now.” The Owl offered him a hand. “At your convenience.” 

Jesse was about to say something else and stopped, thinking. He looked up at the Owl, who was still more real than the rest of the world. “What do you mean?” He asked carefully, knowing exactly what the god meant. 

“Your gifts are wasted in this temple, delivering false prophecy to small humans of no importance. You are a talented young man. You would do better in my service—my direct service, not through a temple.” 

“How…” Jesse stared at the hand, and up at the man offering it. “How did you know I was a boy?”

The Owl smiled. “We gods are not all-knowing as you may have heard.” He said. “But we do perceive things that humans do not. We are not so easily fooled by appearances as your kind.”

“I…” Jesse stared up at him, and laughed. Of course. “Won’t…won’t the Lady of White be angry?”

“I shall speak with her. Men do not generally serve her in any case. I do not believe she will oppose me.” 

Jesse looked away, around the little room, at his scant possessions. At the dress hanging on the hook by the door. At his pipe, the bottle of Moon’s Tear. At his life here. And he took the Owl’s hand and stood. “You’re not going to make me wear one of those, are you?” He asked, nodding at the dress.

“You will wear whatever you like.” The Owl smiled. “You may eat whatever you like, do whatever you like. I will give you everything you wish for—and in exchange I ask only for your wisdom.” 

“That doesn’t seem very fair.” Jesse mumbled, looking away in embarrassment. People like him weren’t made to be treated that way. 

“You underestimate your own value. Allow me to show you.” 

Jesse thought about it for a long time, standing there holding the Owl’s hand. But even though he thought about it, he knew he’d already made the decision, possibly made it the minute the god had walked through his door. He nodded, and took a step forward. 

“Come.” Derel said, wrapping his arm around Jesse’s back, walking him the few steps to the door. When he pulled it open, it didn’t lead to the cluttered little hallways of the temple, but to a spacious garden. “Tell me what the future will be.”

He was still naked, he’d be bringing literally nothing with him if he stepped through the door right now. He would be completely dependent on whatever the god chose to give him, relying on his word to keep him alive. Or he could stay here, in the temple, where he was at least safe and fed and clothed, even if he spent his days lying to men and laying on his back and never been seen the way he wanted to be. Derel’s hand was on his back, patient and not pressing him. Waiting for his answer. And Jesse realized that he it wasn’t an illusion of choice—he knew in the way that he knew a lot of other things that if he said no, turned away, the Owl wouldn’t stop him, wouldn’t force him. 

And so Jesse nodded. “Okay.” He said. “I will.” And he took the step over the threshold.


End file.
